


its hard to fly, when you can't even run.

by Sagamohr



Series: run away, but we're running in circles. [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 'Derek Fucking Hale', 'Stiles Fucking Stilinski', Alternative Universe - Guardian Angel, Alternative Universe - No werewolves, Coming Out, Explicit Language, M/M, POV Derek Hale, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, implied suicidal thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:34:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23523148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sagamohr/pseuds/Sagamohr
Summary: “Does that file tell you when I’m gunna die?” The question was asked softly as if he was risking it all to say it out loud.Derek looked at Stiles, seeing a young kid worried, with anxieties about school and his family and friends piled high onto thin, broad shoulders. “No,” Derek replied just as softly. “No, it doesn’t.”
Relationships: Derek Hale & Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: run away, but we're running in circles. [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1616863
Comments: 13
Kudos: 41





	1. i/iii

**Author's Note:**

> I took a break from writing just in time to get slammed into the nonsense that is real life right now. Also, I'm considered an essential worker, so not only have my hours at work doubled over the last couple of weeks, but it's beginning to cripple my free time/dedicated hobby time. Here's a little something to get you all interested once again.
> 
> A friendly reminder to wash your hands and stay at home if you can.

Somehow, Stiles had made it back to his house without alerting anyone that he could see Derek fucking Hale. 

_Derek Hale!_

That in itself was a miracle, and for the first time Derek was glad that the lacrosse player didn’t splutter and gape uselessly about something ‘quirky’ or different like he normally did.

When the high school senior realized what - or in this case who - he was seeing, things changed very quickly. Stiles shook Scott off once he realized that even if he said anything, he wouldn’t be believed. Sure, like most people he knew, he trusted Scott - and trusted Scott with his life - but there were lines that even best friends couldn’t cross. Sometimes, when things seemed a little out of the ordinary, Stiles knew he was reaching, but this had to be different, right? Clearing his throat, the high school senior started to walk away, mumbling something about getting home before his dad woke up (even though Scott knew plainly that Stiles’ dad was on shift that afternoon, he had complained about it all last period!) and nearly crashed as he pulled out wildly of the parking lot. 

Fingers wrapped tightly around the steering wheel, Stiles stared with wide eyes at the road, too scared - fuck, too anxious - to even look away for a second as Derek sat idly in the passenger seat. When had he gotten in? Did he materialize in? Had he gotten in like Stiles had, all elbows and knees and tingling in his palms?

Much like the rest of the town, when the teachers and student body of the high school heard that the last standing Hale kid had died, they mourned. The high school mourned a good lacrosse player, the community mourned for … well, Stiles didn’t really know why anyone outside of the high school mourned for Derek. Family history or something? Maybe? There had to be a reason why the Hale house hadn’t been torn down after what had happened there. Stiles - for all it was worth - didn’t quite know because it was never a point of interest. 

Not when he had Scott mooning about Allison all the time, not when he had homework piling up, college and universe admissions looming overhead. Why on Earth would he worry about some family-

“If you keep speeding like this you’ll end up hurting yourself... or someone else.” Derek finally spoke, once Stiles had haphazardly parked his Jeep in his parking spot. How he had managed to get himself home while a goddamn _ghost_ sat in his passenger’s seat, he’d never know. The younger male let out a squawk at Derek’s comment, and if it weren’t for the fact that no one else could see them, the angel probably would have smacked him. Instead, Stiles got out of his car and ran to his house, nearly falling flat on his face as he ran. He left his bookbag in the back of his Jeep, half-scrambling to slam the door behind him as he tried to lock the dead man out. 

Derek watched from his spot in the car, working his jaw over, the vein in his temple beginning to throb. 

How had he managed to get assigned to Stiles _fucking_ Stilinski again? Quietly giving himself a few minutes to collect the slight temper he had felt a spark from his new … what did they call them again? Cases? Derek didn’t really care for labels. Stiles was just Stiles. Guardian Angel or not, Derek wasn’t about to start acting like he gave a complete shit about the little punk outside of what he had to give a shit about. Once the Hale boy felt like he could handle whatever it was Stiles was about to throw at him, he left the car and found his way into Stiles’ house. He had never been over before. Hell, he didn’t even know Stiles lived in a house, from the way he had heard it from others.

Derek wandered into Stiles’ bedroom and once again, Stiles let out a squawk, leaping to his feet from his spot at the desk. The Hale kid looked over at the laptop, frowning at what Stiles had been searching: ‘How to unsummon a Demon’.

Idiot.

Rubbing his temple, the angel rolled his eyes. “I’m not a demon, Stiles,” Derek said, looking away from the screen to then look back at Stiles, who looked a little less terrified. “In fact, I think I’m literally the opposite.”

Stiles, who still had yet to actually say anything to Derek, narrowed his eyes. 

_‘Huh. Guess he’s not in the mood for a joke._ ’ Derek thought before he looked around the room, unsurprised with a lot of the things he found. Books, plenty of books, some comics in a tilted pile. There was a walkie talkie, a small but organized pile of clothing, socks basically everywhere, and of course, a well-worn path in the carpet from the door to the bed and then to the desk. There was a smaller branch seeming to start that split from the trek to the desk to his closet, but from the piles of clothes on the floor, it seemed like Stiles preferred to leave his clothes out of it.

Derek had to get the conversation back on track, though. So he returned his attention to the younger boy and sighed. “Honestly, Stiles. I want to be here about as much as you want me to be here, so let’s just… get this over with.” Derek said, moving to lean against the wall, arms crossing over his chest. “I died.” The words were still sour, a sting on the tip of his tongue. “I got lucky enough to come back and handle some… unfinished business.” 

“Unfinished business?” Stiles managed to speak, voice tight.

“Yeah. Something like that.”

“With _me?_ ”

Derek was painfully silent for just a second too long. “I don’t know.”

“How don’t you know, Derek? You’re here! In my room! With me!” Stiles’s voice was beginning to rise in volume, out of fear or what he didn’t quite know. “You’re… dead! Why are you here? What the hell is your unfinished business?”

The angel threw his hands up. “I don’t know!” He repeated, screwing his face up into half a scowl. “I was headed home on my goddamn birthday and got hit by a car. No offence, Stiles, but you weren’t even a blip on my radar and now I’m stuck here, with you, until I figure it out.”

“Stuck.” Stiles echoed. “ _You’re_ ‘stuck’ with me, Derek? That’s not how I see it.”

“And how do you see this, Stiles? I’d love to know.” 

Stiles noted with some surprise the sharp venom in Derek’s voice. “If anything, I’m the one ‘stuck’ with you, if going off of what you said earlier is true.” He paused, moving to sit at his desk. “You say you’re the opposite of a demon? So, then, what does that actually make you? A saint? An angel?”

A beat passed, and Derek looked down at his feet.

“Guardian.” Mumbled the angel. “I’m your guardian angel.”

Silence fell heavily over the room. Stiles, hands once flying over the keyboard, was frozen, as if shocked by the answer he had been given. Derek instead looked half horrified that the words had left his mouth. 

“You’re _my_ guardian angel?” Stiles whispered as if he hadn’t heard properly.

“Yeah.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yeah, I am. I got your file-”

“A _file_ , Derek? You got handed a fucking file?” Stiles sounded incredulous. “They have _files_ in… I don’t even want to _say_ it…”

“It’s not how I imagined it would happen either, Stiles! Jesus Christ-”

“Have you met him? Is he a he, or-”

“Can you take this _seriously_ , please!?”

Stiles stood from his desk chair and took a couple of strong steps towards Derek before realizing who he was about to approach. “Listen to yourself!” Stiles shouted, and for half a second, the dead man was actually surprised Stiles had a volume louder than his normal half shouting range. 

“You’re fucking dead!” If Stiles was shocked at his own admittance of it, he wasn’t about to show it. “You appear at school, and you know for a goddamn fact I can’t tell Scott of all people that I’m seeing Derek Hale in the parking lot, and then you have the nerve to tell me you’re my- you’re _my_ Guardian Angel?” Stiles paused, breathless, chest half-heaving. The silence that swelled in the room was heavy and uncomfortable, and it hung darkly in the air between the angel and human.

“Yeah,” Derek grunted, feeling slightly cowed for how he essentially popped into Stiles’ life. But that feeling of … disappointment, or whatever changed rapidly into annoyance. This was just as off-putting to Derek as it was to Stiles. “Look, I didn’t exactly get a handbook for this,” He motioned to himself. “I’m doing the best with what I have.”

“Let me see this file.” Stiles butted in.

That took Derek by surprise. “Sorry… what?”

“Let me see the file you have on me. I want to know why I was assigned to you.”

“I don’t have it.” Derek lied. He did have it, technically. He couldn’t exactly give it to Stiles either, because as far as he knew, things from the … The other side didn’t always translate well into the mortal world. Real-world. Living world? Derek shook his head, looking away from the plain look of mistrust and annoyance on Stiles’ face. “I don’t have it, Stiles, seriously.”

“Mmhm.”

Derek growled and pushed off from the spot he had been leaning against. “Look, I’m just as thrilled about this as you are.” He paused, rubbing a hand over the top of his head. “I didn’t know I had even died until… I woke up in a room, with some lady telling me I had been hit by a car.” Once again, the silence filled the room, heavy and hard to handle. Derek cleared his throat, face hardening slightly. “I was given three days - or longer, time isn’t really… real… and then I was sent to a room to talk to some other angels and I was given your file.” Lifting his gaze from the floor, he looked back at his charge. “That’s the whole thing.”

Stiles found his desk chair and sank into it as if the shouting had exhausted him. “The whole thing?”

“Yeah. I’m telling you all I know.”

“So what’s in the file? What made them pick you, for me?”

Derek shrugged. “Something about unfinished business, whether it’s mine or yours... I don’t know any more than that.”

Stiles scoffed, and returned his gaze to the computer, clearing the tab to start typing fresh once more. Derek found himself sitting on the edge of Stiles’ bed, watching him type. His shoulders pushed back slowly and naturally the longer he typed, his fingers flitting over the keys like hummingbirds. The angel sighed, wondering to himself if this would get any easier for the both of them. 

“Are you going to tell Scott?”

“One day, sure.” Stiles was quick to answer, but his tone was distracted, eyes glued to the screen as he control-clicked link after link, loading them into new tabs. Derek didn’t want to know what the kid was beginning to ‘research’, the conversation previous making it hard to judge where or what his mind could be plucking at. 

“Maybe before I die, if I can plan that far in advance.” He froze, his entire body tensing, sending a small look over his shoulder at Derek. “Sorry…” Stiles murmured. “That was… kinda not cool.”

“No, it wasn’t.” Derek snapped. “But... it’s the truth.”

“Does that file tell you when I’m gonna die?” The question was asked softly as if he was risking it all to say it out loud.

Derek looked at Stiles, seeing a young kid worried, with anxieties about school and his family and friends piled high onto thin, broad shoulders. “No,” Derek replied just as softly. 

“No, it doesn’t.”


	2. ii/iii

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Confession. I've never actually watched Teen Wolf. I've seen exactly the first episode - when it originally aired - and that's it. I've read countless Sterek fics and have seen some beautiful fanvids... but that's it. Whump?

A ‘week’ had passed since Derek showed up in Stiles’ life.

He got to learn a little more about the kid than he wanted, and between visits, Derek got to return to … well, wherever he had been sent to when he died. He wasn’t sure if he was in heaven, or in limbo, or somewhere else entirely. It was hard to figure that out, because it never changed. Derek had taken to calling it ‘the warehouse’, because he always seemed to phase into what he could only assume felt like a warehouse. The thought of an afterlife wasn’t something he obsessed about. Boyd welcomed him back each and every time with a warm smile on his face and a question: _‘How’s Stiles doing today?’_

It was Saturday. Derek only knew that because Stiles said he had plans with Scott, and he wouldn’t be in school. That meant he had the ‘day’ off, and would have his first follow-up meeting. He told Stiles that time moves differently when they aren't together, and he should expect him to pop back in sometime around Thursday or Friday of the following week. Of course, Stiles had simply shrugged, and kept his attention on the calculus homework he had been previously griping about.

So when Derek ‘woke up’ in his room the next morning - or whatever he could call it, time wasn’t real here - he was getting ready for his day off when an announcement rolled out gently in all of the rooms: ‘ _All Recent Guardians into Meeting Room A for your first weekly follow up! Attendance is mandatory!_ ’

Of course. Shaking his head, Derek finished getting ready, slipping a soft blank shirt over his head and pulled on some jeans. He didn’t bother asking where they had gotten his clothes from. Whether they were actually his from his time on Earth or they had somehow used their Angel magic to make them appear, Derek wasn’t going to complain about it.

“What am I supposed to say?” Derek asked Boyd, running a hand through his hair when they met up on the way down to the meeting. 

The darker skinned male hummed in thought, shrugged, and then gave Derek a warm smile. “Tell the truth. Say what’s been going on. There’s no point in lying or hiding things, it’ll only make your case last longer and keep you stagnant.” Boyd had received his newest case three days prior and hadn’t had so much as a complaint about it. Derek wasn’t sure how he could be so chipper and upbeat all of the time, but maybe Boyd was more at peace with his ‘case’ than anyone else.

Following him down the hallway, he said hello to the other angels as they passed. It was still such a surreal thought for Derek. Saying ‘hello’ to other angels. Some looked tired, or pale. Some looked happy and cheerful like the stereotypes were meant to be. It was easy to know which ones were ‘older’ or had been there longer, because they were quick to make eye contact with just about everyone. Derek wasn’t sure how he felt. He was still so angry with the choice that wasn’t made with his consent. He was truly very frustrated with himself and with Stiles. Where he knew that this was the truth, that this wasn’t some off-season lacrosse concussion gone bad or acting up, Stiles continued to hold out as if this was some bad prank.

“You’re going to hurt yourself if you keep clenching your jaw like that.” Boyd spoke quietly, nudging Derek with an elbow. “You do that when you’re nervous about something.”

“I’m not nervous.” Derek snapped, but he did try and relax his jaw a little.

Boyd nodded, but clearly didn’t believe him. The two guardians walked into the room and took their respective seats, waiting for the meeting to begin. This was what irked Derek the most. Not the weird phasing in and out of areas, or the strange sense of time that either moved far too quickly or not fast at all. It was the _waiting_. Why would they have to wait if they could appear and disappear whenever they liked? Was this some sick test? Boyd once again nudged him, and Derek huffed quietly. He was probably clenching his jaw too tightly again.

“Thank you all for coming,” Came the voice of the head guardian angel, person. Derek slouched a touch in his seat, arms crossing over his chest. He had never given a name, and so he had just started to mentally call him ‘Josh’.

“We have some things to get through before we get to the good stuff. First, we’ll be moving some of our more decreed angels to the flats.” There was a cheer from most of the room. Derek raised an eyebrow. This wasn’t the entire crew of guardians? 

“They’ll be moved out in three days time. Then we’ll welcome our newest recruits.”

Derek snorted at the word ‘recruit’, which earned him not only another - harder - elbow nudge from Boyd, but a stern look from the angel (Josh, Derek mentally reminded himself) at the head of the room. “We’ve unfortunately had a … rise in numbers.” The head angel said, tapping his papers against the tabletop. “We’ll be welcoming in a group of high schoolers. You might see some of your old cases in this group, please don’t be alarmed, and make their transition as easy as possible.”

There was an uncomfortable pause. No one liked talking about the new recruits, especially when they were young. 

“Next, we’d like to speak about our newest guardians and their cases. How does everyone feel about them?”

There were a few immediately raised hands. Others leaned back in their chairs, or shifted in their seats, or didn’t raise their hands at all. Questions were lobbied back and forth, some outright confessing that they were going to miss their ‘charge’ once they moved on. Derek snorted quietly, and looked at Boyd. He remained as stoic as ever, only the corner of his mouth tweaking up when things were said about how ‘shocked’ a case was when they appeared randomly in their room or something.

“Derek?” His name being called made him look back to the front, noticing that some of his ‘coworkers’ had turned to look at him. Josh had stood from his desk, leaning against it now with his arms crossed across his chest loosely. “Derek? How are things going with-”

“Fine.” Dreek was quick to answer, lifting his chin. He didn’t know where the protectiveness about his case had come from, but he wasn’t about to unpack that right now, in front of everyone. The head guardian raised an eyebrow, smiling slightly. 

“‘Fine’?”

A beat. “It’s… difficult.” Derek admitted. What was the point in lying, right? Besides, it wasn’t like anyone else was doing an amazing job right off the bat, either. They were all just too cowardly to say so. “We sort of knew each other before I… before this.” There were a couple of gasps, as if it was such a shock. He cleared his throat. He lowered his gaze, touching his chin. “He was a freshman in school when I was a junior, we had mutual friends…”

“So how does he handle one of his friends being his guardian? Isn’t that a good thing?”

Christ. “We weren’t _friends_.” Derek snapped. He ran a hand down his face. “I thought he was a tweaky little shit.”

“Language.” Intoned Josh, as if he had heard it a thousand times. He probably had, too.

“Now he asks me things I don’t know if I’m allowed to answer, things I can’t answer because _I don’t know the answer_ ,” Derek continued, ignoring the jab,“and that makes him trust me less. How am I supposed to help him if he thinks this is all one big joke?” Derek half groused, running a hand through his hair. “Why’d you give him to _me?_ ”

There was a soft silence in the room, like Derek had just asked a question everyone had on the tip of their tongue. The head guardian simply sighed, his smile no longer happy but apologetic, before he put his glasses onto his face and waved the room out. “We’ll revisit this next week.” The tone was light, but dismissive. Amongst the general chatter and sounds of angels leaving, the head guardian lifted his head and looked at the pair. 

“Derek, Boyd, a word please?”

Crap.

Derek remained in his seat, as Boyd stood and meandered towards the desk. He only paused halfway there to motion to Derek to follow. Derek didn’t follow.

Josh didn’t make note of this, or didn’t really mind, because he had a stack of files on his desk. “Boyd,” He said first. “I think I found your next case.”

Derek felt a muscle in his jaw twitch. Next case? Already? 

Boyd’s eyes lit up. “You… did?” 

At that, Derek moved to stand, picking his way down towards the front of the room. This was exciting, as much as he didn’t want to admit it. He could tell from the way Boyd’s shoulders stiffened that he was excited, elated, over the moon about this. Derek paused just out of arm's reach of Boyd and the head guardian, listening.

“Yes. Here,” a file was passed over to the other male, and eagerly the tall dark skinned male took it, turning from the table. “You’ll receive one more week with your current case, if you need it. Of course, we’re only supposed to give you three days, but… I figured I could bend the rules a little.” Derek rolled his eyes, reminding himself to stop clenching his jaw. “If you have any questions, I’ll be here.” Boyd quietly nodded and went to pour over the file.

His eyes flicked to Derek, and the male almost winced at the sheer sense of anger that rolled out of them. “Mr Hale.”

“No, Mr Hale was my father,” Derek tried to joke, but it came out flat. “Look, I’m sorry- I should have raised my hand or something, when we were all talking, and I didn’t-”

“No, you did exactly what I asked of you.” He stood, moved around the side of the table and sat on the edge of it. Derek sighed, a slight sense of relief flooding his system. The lights no longer felt as bright, the room no longer felt like it was closing in. “You told me how your case was going.” It almost sounded like a question. “Is there anything you’d like to ask me about it?”

Derek nodded. “Yeah, actually. What can I tell Stiles about… well, this? Is this Heaven? Am I in limbo? Is this a place between limbo and Heaven?”

There was a pause, and even Boyd looked up from his new file to look at the two guardians. Derek watched carefully, unsure of what he was supposed to do or say to make the silence go away. “We’re not… in Heaven.” The head Guardian said quietly. “We’re technically in a branch of Heaven. When you’re finished with whatever you were assigned, you’re offered a choice. Take on a second case, or if the council think you’ve done a good job, you’ll move into Heaven.”

Derek squinted slightly. “Does everyone who dies, have to take on a test before they can get to their final resting place?”

“No.”

“Then… what the hell?”

“ _Language._ ”

Derek rolled his eyes with a scoff. “That doesn’t answer my quest-”

“I did answer your question.” A pause, before the head guardian moved to sit back down behind his desk. The room had emptied of all the other angels, leaving only Boyd and Derek there. The silence was heavy, authoritative. “I said ‘no’. Some are lucky and are brought to Heaven - or like us, to a branch of it - and others are placed here, or placed elsewhere. You can tell Stiles this is a type of Limbo, I suppose, or tell him that it’s Heaven. Whatever you think will make him feel better about it.”

That definitely didn’t answer his question. He rubbed the side of his head, a headache beginning to form. “So am I just… working until someone higher up says ‘Oh he can relax now’?” Derek asked.

“Not working, you’re finishing your purpose on Earth, here, as a Guardian Angel.”

“Then what’s my goddamn purpose?”

Boyd clapped a hand on his shoulder, jostling Derek from his tirade. “We should go. Rest up, head back to our charges in the morning.” He looked to Josh, and waved the file. “Thanks for this, I can start in a week.” He let the other male go, and turned without another word out of the room. Derek remained a little while longer, simply staring at the head guardian who simply ignored him. Exhaling hard, the guardian angel sighed, ran a hand through his hair, before slapping the top of the desk. 

“I want an answer, man.”

“You’ll get your full answer when you finish your task with Stiles.”

Too frustrated to push it much more than that, Derek shook his head and turned to walk out. “Yeah, if he ever believes me about this crap.” He half-muttered to himself, opening the door to walk out.

“Language!” Was all he heard before he slammed it shut behind him.


	3. iii/iii

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last 'big' project for a while. I want to post some quick little one-shot's and the like while I'm still working crazy hours.
> 
> Remember to stay home and wash your hands, folks.

“Wow. So, you’re dead but you’re not in Heaven?”

“Technically.”

Stiles snorted, rolling his eyes as he took one last hit of the joint. “A technicality, so you’re stuck in “ _soul work_ ” limbo.” He used air quotes, looking over at Derek. The angel smirked, shaking his head.

The two sat on Stiles’ roof. Stiles had complained that he needed the night to himself, and while Derek didn’t nessecarily want to leave his charge on his own, he didn’t really have the means to pop back into Limbo - or whatever he was calling it. Sheriff Stiliniski had returned home from a weird case, and had promptly shut himself in his ‘home office’. Stiles muttered to Derek that his home office was his bedroom, but they weren’t going to talk about that.

When he suggested that they go onto the roof (so Stiles could smoke without his dad giving him grief about ‘stinking the house up’), Derek didn’t hesitate. He enjoyed being outside, he liked watching the stars. Being outside, where nothing but the wind and the moonlight could touch you, it was freeing. Besides, he liked pretending - if only for a moment - that he wasn’t dead. He wasn’t an angel. He liked to think that for the first time in a long time he was just an accepted part of something he had always wanted.

“Derek?” Stiles prompted. Derek looked over at him, eyebrows furrowed. At his gaze, the younger male stiffened, lowering his gaze before he looked back up at him, the hint of a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth before he flicked the burnt end of the joint into the gutter. “You’re looking like you’ve … I don’t know, lost your best friend or something.”

Did he say something outloud? “Or something.” Derek replied with half a snort, wishing briefly that he wasn’t dead - again. “It’s… complicated.” He ran a hand through his hair, pulling lightly at the strands.

“What, the heaven stuff? Or losing your best friend?” It wasn’t hard to want to know more, especially if you were someone like Stiles Stilinski.

There was a silence again, and Derek ran a hand over his head. “I… think it’s both.”

Stiles nodded, and the two sat in silence. It wasn’t uncomfortable, if anything it was a balm, soothing over the rough edges that the conversation left in its wake. The moon hung heavy in the sky, and the occasional howl broke the silence. Beacon Hills had one been a mecha for wildlife. Forest flanked the town limits and often encouraged the wildlife to thrive in the warmer months. It wasn’t until Stiles gave a tremble that Derek realized how late it was beginning to get, and that the seasons were on the cuff of changing from mid autumn to early winter. “Do you want to head back inside?” He asked, looking at the human. 

Stiles shook his head. “No, I don’t. I don’t have anything better to do than to sit out here with you.”

Derek grunted, but looked down at his hands as Stiles managed to pull himself in. ‘Anything better to do’? What was that supposed to mean, anyways? He looked back at Stiles, realizing with half a jolt that there was a new disconnect for him. He didn’t realize it, but he had started calling Stiles ‘a human’, or ‘the human’. When did that start? Why did it matter, really? Derek _was_ dead. Derek is a Guardian Angel- Stiles’ guardian angel.

Humans don’t make for good guardians.

“Derek?” Stiles whispered.

“Yeah?”

Stiles looked down at his feet, his old converse beginning to show signs of defeat with a small hole by one of lace holes. “Is it nice? Up there?”

Derek leaned back on his hands, looking up into the sky. How was he supposed to tell Stiles that it felt - and looked - like a warehouse? Broken up into divisions, with apartments for living in and a common room to meet up in. Would it be easier for the both of them to lie? He tried to think of the nice places there, of the spots he enjoyed spending ‘time’ in when he wasn’t here with Stiles. The list was incredibly short. There was a small ‘garden’, but even that was within the warehouse’s walls. 

“It’s nice.” Derek finally answered.

“Oh.”

Silence fell around them once again. It wasn’t as suffocating as it felt like previously. Derek assumed it was because they had learned very early on that neither of them liked to talk. Stiles tended to jabber on when he was nervous or really excited about something. Derek just didn’t. 

“Derek?”

“Yeah?”

“So, I’m… I don’t know how to say this.”

Stiles stopped talking. Huh. That was weird. Intrigued, because Stiles was rarely at a loss for words, Derek moved to sit up a little straighter. When the high school senior still didn’t finish what he had started, it made the knot in Derek’s stomach twist. “What’s going on?”

Stiles shook his head, a choked laugh leaving him. “Nevermind, it’s not important.” He sounded high, words slurring just a touch. Enough to keep his mind loose, enough to keep his guard down.

“It’s important enough that you wanted to tell me.” Derek replied, as gently as he could.

There was a beat, and then Stiles stretched, languidly and very obviously. “Maybe I’m just too tired.”

And this was where the games started. Derek felt the muscle in his jaw tighten. “Or maybe you’re looking for a reason to tell me something.”

“Is this part of your guardian angel training?” Stiles shot back, eyes narrowing. “What do you have to gain by pushing this?”

“ _You’re_ the one that brought it up, Stiles.”

“Whatever.” Stiles grunted, moving to stand.

“C’mon, man where’re you going?”

“Back inside. Maybe you should go back to heaven or where-”

Derek watched as Stiles stood and rocked back. Gravity was not on his side, not after the spliff he had. With half a yelp Stiles swung his arms wildly before Derek stood and grabbed one, hauling him back towards him. For a split second his vision was bright white, like a connection had been made. It ended just as quickly as it had began. The two fell- Derek onto his back and Stiles on top -to the rooftop. The angel wrapped his arms tightly around the human, one hand coming up to touch the base of his neck, the other with his fingers splayed against the middle fo his back.

Squeezing his eyes closed Stiles held his breath. Derek saw his lips twitch before he spoke. “Do... you think my dad heard that?”

Derek, half winded and with some pain shooting up his spine, shook his head. “No.” Well, this wasn’t fair. He still felt pain even though he was dead?

For half a minute they remained like that, with one on top of the other, until Stiles scrambled off of him, face flushed with color. “Sorry, sorry.” His voice was tight, as if he was scared of saying anything more than that. The fall had scared the high out of him, it seemed.

Carefully standing, Stiles peered over the edge of his roof. A few impulsive thoughts ran straight to the forefront of his mind. “Stiles, c’mon. Let’s go inside.” Derek said, motioning for him to follow him into his bedroom.

“Yeah… I’ll be there in a minute.”

Derek went into the bedroom first, grateful that even though he could ‘feel’ pain, he wouldn’t make the floorboards creak. That was something else the angel had noticed when he spent time with his human charge. Stiles’ bedroom floor was full of lifted or ill-fitted floorboards, making the room impossible to walk around in without alerting his father. Stiles liked to pace when he was worried, nervous or excited. Derek realized that was why there was such a worn in pattern in his rug: he paced - and walked - the same path each and every time to avoid the loud creaks.

“That was a little scary.” Stiles said as he awkwardly climbed into his bedroom again. He brushed the invisible dirt off his shoulders and moved to flop into his desk chair, heaving a sigh so loudly it almost distracted Derek from the question still hanging from the tip of his tongue.

In his file, Derek had seen one of the few reasons why he had been assigned a guardian angel. He was struggling with his sense of identity. From what Derek could pinpoint, a lot of who Stiles thought of himself to be, happened to hang a lot on his friends. With Scott he was the homework helper, best friend. Where Scott went, Stiles followed. With Alison - someone Derek had only met and heard about second hand - Stiles was the third wheel who knew when to talk and when not to talk.

For a lot of this, Derek had initially thought he should work some angel magic and get Stiles laid. A quick fuck never hurt.

But it ran so much deeper than that.

“Derek, you’re supposed to say something when someone talks to you.” Stiles commented dryly from his place at his desk, eyes glued to the screen. Shaking his head, Derek looked over at him, half frowning as he moved to sit on the edge of the bed. 

“I’m sorry, what were you saying?”

Stiles sighed, and clicked something on the computer. A window popped up, followed by a new tab, and Derek watched as Stiles casually loaded up a few tabs about ‘guardian angels’. He almost laughed. This was typical Stiles. Deflect with something else.

“What sort of angel mojo do you have?”

Derek blinked. “Why are you asking me questions about this?”

“Because I’m _curious_ , Derek.”

“How about you answer my question first.” Derek said, offering him answers for answers of his own. Stiles looked momentarily confused, but then it clicked. His face once again flushed, and he dragged the window with tabs over to one side of the screen and loaded up a new window. Looked like some sort of game. “Stiles?”

“You’ve… obviously kissed a girl,” Stiles started. He shifted in his seat. “I … I have, too, duh, but like…”

Derek waited, folding his arms across his chest. Stiles would eventually get to the point, and while this was probably the absolute worst part of working with him, he knew that once the kid got started, things would come out into the light. 

“Scott’s always talking about kissing Alison and how it feels and stuff.” Stiles paused, as if talking about his best friend wasn’t the right thing to do. “I mean.. When I kissed Lydia… it didn’t really feel the same way it felt whenever Scott talks about it.”

Derek half smirked. “Scott and Alison are so wrapped up in one another, aren’t they?”

“Yeah but that’s not the problem.”

Huh. Derek’s half smirk flattened. “Then… what’s the problem?”

Stiles once again went quiet. He tapped at the keyboard, fingers stilling when he realized he hadn’t answered Derek. “I… I don’t think I’m straight.” It was said so softly, Derek almost missed it.

“What… makes you think that?”

Stiles huffed, dragging a hand down his face. “Well you’re already dead so it’s not like I’m telling Scott.”

Derek winced. “Ouch?”

“Sorry, yeah, insensitive.” Stiles paused, took a deep breath, then shook his head. “I don’t know! Scott and Alison are like... the it couple. Like, relationship goals, y’know? And then Lydia’s a freaking knockout and I look like I haven’t walked out of seventh grade yet. It’s ridiculous.” He poked his arms, long and lanky but with lean muscle from seasons of lacrosse. “I… I guess I started thinking this way- feeling this way about a year ago? When one of the new transfers from a town over joined the lacrosse team.”

Stiles stopped once again, and Derek simply sat there, waiting for him to continue. 

“I don’t … I don’t think I’m _gay_ , because you’ve heard me talk about Lydia-”

“The ‘freaking knockout’, yes.” Derek quipped. using air-quotes.

“Yeah.” Stiles half laughed, biting his lower lip before he looked back at the angel- his guardian angel. “I’ve wanted to kiss a guy just to see what it’s like for… I don’t know, but it feels like forever.”

Derek firmly kept the rumors he had heard about Scott and Stiles to himself, knowing they would only add fuel to a fire he didn’t feel like fighting. Besides, it wasn’t his place to speak about them like that: he had been closeted for most of his life. “So… why now? What’s… well, what’s made you want to tell me?”

“You’re my guardian angel- i should be able to tell you _anything_.” Stiles told him, before pointing at the computer screen behind him. “These sites all say that I’m not even supposed to _see_ you, and you’re supposed to communicate through small signs like, feathers or some shit.”

Derek shrugged, mainly because he had said those exact same words to Josh once upon a time. “We’re allowed to make contact if we’re comfortable with who we’re paired with.”

“And you’re comfortable with me?”

“We _know_ each other, Stiles. Yeah we weren’t close friends, but we knew each other.”

Stiles opened his mouth to say something, but a knock sounded on his door. “Stiles? Are.. you decent?” Came his father’s voice from behind the door.

Derek, half-frozen with a sudden panic, just looked at Stiles. “Y-yeah!” He choked out, rapidly minimizing his window with the guardian angel tabs.

John Stilinski walked into his son’s room, poking his head in slightly. His mouth turned down slightly when he noticed Stiles on the computer once again. “It’s past midnight, son. You should probably log off that thing and go to bed.”

“Y-yeah, dad. I’ll do that. Goodnight.” Stiles said, giving his dad a tight smile.

“Night, Stiles.”

As the door clicked closed, Stiles flicked his gaze over to Derek, who had moved to stand at the head of the bed. The two looked at each other and before either of them realized, were laughing. Never once had Derek felt embarrassed like he did now. Sheriff Stilinski had never been someone on Derek's mind until recently, but this was not how he wanted to see the man. Stiles leaned back in his chair, head tilted back, the warm off-yellow light of his bedroom catching the angle of his jaw just right. Derek’s laugh faded softly, and he watched as Stiles relaxed, the second adrenaline spike of the night draining out of him quicker than the first one.

It was so easy to be comfortable around him now.

“I should probably head to bed.” Stiles said quietly, still smiling. He didn’t look at Derek. He didn’t bother moving from his chair either, gently rocking himself side to side. “I like talking to you, Derek.”

“That’s new. I’ll remember that when you’re pissed off at me again in a few days.” Derek hummed, and it made Stiles snort.

“No, honestly. Even… without knowing you’re dead and no one but me can see you. It’s… nice.”

Derek made a small sound in the back of his throat, but the knot in his stomach tightened.

Stiles moved slowly, moving to stand first and stretch. Time had slowed to an impossible crawl, and standing with his back to the wall Derek had nowhere to go. “I think my second high’s coming, but I don’t know.” Stile laughed, shaking his head before he tugged his shirt off. 

“Will you stay?”

“What?” Derek croaked, throat tight.

“Will you _stay_? Jesus, Derek. It’s like you’re suddenly vuh-very hard of hearing. Stay so I don’t choke on my own spit.” Stiles cracked, laughing as he pushed his jeans down his legs. Exhaustion - whether it was propelled on more by the weed he had smoked or the brutal lacrosse practise he had earlier, or the all nighter he had pulled the night before, Stiles didn’t know - was making everything a little harder to do, including coherenancy.

Derek nodded, stepping away from the wall to pull Stiles’ bed covers back. “Yeah.” He murmured, voice soft. “Yeah, I’ll stay, Stiles.”

“Good.” Stiles met his tone, and dropped into bed. “Derek?”

“Yeah?”

“I… y’know how I was talking about kissing a dude before?” Half of the sentence was muffled into the pillow as Stiles turned over, and Derek half-heartedly threw the covers over his lower half. “Well, I didn’t wanna kiss just any dude, y’know.”

That knot in Derek’s stomach tightened even more.

Stiles twisted his neck, looking over his shoulder, already half-asleep. “Derek?… I…”

“Stiles.” Derek choked, cutting him off. “Please. Not right now. I can’t… I can’t hear you say something you’ll regret tomorrow.”

Stiles was silent, as if he was mulling whatever his guardian angel had said, over. “Wanted to kiss you for forever, dude.”

**Author's Note:**

> I've created a writing Discord server for anyone interested. Please feel free to join it -> discord.gg/KmNY9vV


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